


Opposite Fall Eclipse

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Southern Gothic, Supernatural Elements, Witch Hunters, Witches, its pretentious as hell im sorry, magic with no explanation, mild bondage, or possibly demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: While wandering deep in the dark forest, inexperienced witch hunter Percy Graves makes a deadly discovery, that will change his life forever.





	Opposite Fall Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edvic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edvic/gifts).



> happy birthday to one of my dearest friends.  
> I'm belatedly posting this, as their birthday was a few weeks ago.

"Are you following me, little human?" 

Someone or something more accurately, hisses at him from out of the dark. 

The amounts of coffee he’s had already have put him on edge, this now is ten thousand times worse. 

Fear chills Graves to the bone. “Depends what you are, I might be looking for a creature just like you.” 

He manages to get out, keeping his voice from wavering. 

Graves can almost hear the smile that greets him along with more words that creep over his skin, causing his flesh to rise, the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. 

“Is that right? And what makes you think you can capture me? Defeat me?” 

Graves doesn’t bother reaching for his bow, or his pistol. If this is indeed a real witch, they can turn any of his weapons to ash, or some other harmless substance, like flowers or moonlight. 

There is very little of either in this corner of the forest, and Graves finds himself wondering why he’s been so stupid to go hunting after midnight. During  _ their _ time. 

He kept trying and trying to leave before the sun set, but other duties distracted him. 

Graves has half a mind to send Sera the bill for his funeral, if such a thing is possible in death, but before he can continue such a line of thought, the shadow he’s been looking at shimmers, and an eerie stillness falls. “You’re a handsome one. I’ve never seen a human with silver in their hair. Are you part fae?” 

Graves’ tongue feels made of lead, and he cannot move, feet rooted to the ground like the trees that encircle them both. He simply stares, and drinks in the sight of milky skin, glittering onyx eyes, and ragged waves of hair that frame a truly beautiful face. It’s almost so ethereal it hurts to look at.

Graves swallows, desperately gulping air into his collapsing lungs. 

“I don’t think so.” He gasps, and the creature, the  _ witch _ , advances on him, even while stalking around him, like a true predator. “Is that right?”   
They ask him, voice lower, raspy, and Graves nods. “I’m not lying. As far as I know, I’m pure human.”

“Fascinating. I can smell your fear, and yet you do not run from me. Do you fear death, son of man?”

Graves thinks, if this witch will hand him his death, perhaps he can at least ask one favor. “No.”

“I hear a question in your tone.” They murmur, and Graves inhales quickly.

“Well, yes. I wonder if you might grant me the privilege of your name before you kill me.”

The witch smiles, a small quirk of full, pink lips, shining wet from their tongue slipping out, a flash of sharp white teeth catching the moonlight. “Shall I? Bring you a swift end, for trespassing in my domain?”

Graves smiles weakly, “It’s all in your hands.” 

The witch is truly the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, evil and dangerous as they might be, they’re also entirely naked, and Graves is only human, as he’s said. 

He’s buzzed on the caffeine, and greatly regretting not spending a  _ bit _ more time in the shower.

“You may call me Credence. Oh. Your scent has changed. This is not fear, is it, human?”

Graves gulps, and then licks his lips. “Apologies, Credence. You’re very lovely. Perhaps it’s an illusion.”

The ground falls out from under him, as all the air leaves his lungs in a punch, and Graves is flat on his back, with the witch perched over his chest, keeping him from breathing too deeply. 

His hands are pinned to the ground also, leaving him entirely vulnerable. 

Graves might as well be naked too, for he feels it. 

Credence’s eyes roam his body, and another smirk twists that plush mouth. 

“Human, you’re  _ aroused _ by me. Is that right? You did not come to hunt. You came to be  _ had _ .”

Graves’ nervous laugh is enough of an answer, and Credence’s claws are technically gentle as they drag down his chest, severing his shirt buttons, then the crossbody handle of the leather satchel holding his weapons, well, some of them. 

The witch does not stop until Graves is completely bared, shuffling back atop his body, crouching over him. He feels a cool breeze drifting, licking more physically than any tongue, over his cock. 

Credence lets him keep his socks and boots on. Otherwise, Graves is naked. 

“Human, you do not disappoint me.” The witch croons, not mockingly, and Graves shifts a little, testing the bonds at his wrists and ankles. They are firm, but not painful. 

Graves heaves a breath, and watches Credence’s hands, where the claws have retracted somewhat, as they make their way back up his legs from his knees. 

The closer they get to his cock, the harder Graves thinks he becomes. 

He can see a drooling clear line of fluid making its way from the curved head of his cock to drip down onto his stomach. It quivers as he breathes, and Credence smirks. 

“Shall I taste you, human? Give you what you came for?” Graves cannot speak. He does not know. 

The witch clearly enjoys teasing him, as they lower themselves, hovering those lips just above his cock, before wetly swallowing it entirely into their throat. 

Graves cries out, and his thighs contract, since he cannot buck up, Credence moves fluidly with him, and both of their hands land upon his waist. 

He’s pinned down promptly, and Graves can now only  _ take _ the pleasure being given to him. 

Credence’s mouth is hot, and sucking hard, while their tongue flits and teases against the underside of his cock. Graves is unable to keep little groans and moans from leaving his throat, thankfully the witch hasn’t suggested gagging him. Yet. 

Credence hums, or perhaps sings over him, and then pulls off, seconds before Graves thinks he might have come. He gasps, and watches the silvery pale body slink up onto him again, soft curves of an ass rubbing over his cock, still slick with the witch’s saliva. 

“I’m going to ride you until you come, and not stop until  _ I _ have. Do you understand, human?” 

Credence murmurs, and Graves nods, frantic, desperate, nearly vibrating with need. “Please, oh god, yes.” 

Further wetness coats over his cock, and it’s tingling on his heated skin, sharply sweet to his nostrils.

A magical sort of lubrication, perhaps? Graves doesn’t have time to wonder, not when liquid heat is enveloping his cock, rhythmic tightness with every downstroke and push up of the witch off of him. 

Credence rocks their hips, forcing Graves’ cock in deep again, and digs the duller claw points into Graves’ chest for leverage, as he strains against the invisible ties holding him down. 

The sharp pain is a compliment to the rush of pleasure that ripples through Graves every time the witch sits flush on his cock, the tight heat of their opening giving him the sweetest torture. 

He wants to return the favor, to pleasure Credence in return, but he supposes perhaps this  _ is _ that, in a way. There’s no obvious moment when the last vestiges of his control shatter, but as Graves finds his orgasm screaming through him, he lets out a low groan, that tapers off into a raspy shouting of vague nonsense. 

As promised, or warned, Credence does not stop, does not even blink, as Graves’ cock empties into them, they keep moving. They lift up, settle down, and grind his still hard cock deeper into the cavern of heat. 

Credence’s hands now encircle Graves’ neck, then bite at his shoulders, as they lean down to kiss his forehead. “So good for me human, it’s alright if you cry, it won’t make me stop.” 

Graves does, he thinks, right as he falls over the edge of a second orgasm, impossibly.

Credence pants into his neck, and their movements stutter, and slow, as Graves’ thighs begin to cramp, and he goes completely limp under the witch. 

“Oh yes, good, perfect.” Credence whispers, while something cool and slick surrounds Graves’ cock, he wonders dimly if that’s the witch’s release, they stagger up and off, falling to the ground beside him.

“You’re far more than I expected, pretty human.” Credence says. 

Graves reflexively twitches, and finds he can move, again, thankfully. 

His arms were beginning to fall asleep, as were his legs. 

“Thank you.” He whispers, and Credence throws a hand over his chest, claws digging in hard, but there’s no pain. Graves blinks, and realizes the witch is  _ healing _ him, returning him to how he was the second he got lost in the forest. Complete with redressing him, putting his clothing to rights. 

He’s helped up to his feet, where he sways a little. 

“Head rush.” Graves says randomly, by way of explanation. 

Credence’s smile is less sharp, not so deadly. “Tell no one you have seen me, and you’ll live a long life.”

Graves swallows, “But will I ever see you again?” 

“It’s far better if you don’t, trust me, human.” Credence is already stepping away, retreating into the darkness, half the moonlight gone. 

Graves chases after them, a hand outstretched, “Wait, please...My name is Percy.” 

Credence’s head tilts, those gorgeous dark waves falling over their shoulders, hiding the peaked nipples that Graves’ mouth still water to taste. “Percy, go run along now, and tell your fellow hunters this forest is empty. Abandoned. Haunted, but only with ghosts.” 

Graves watches the witch disappear, and tries to clamp down his enormous disappointment. 

He shuffles back the way he came with every single thing about him the same, except for his memories. 

Graves returns to the diner he had his lunch in, early the day before. 

He slumps into the same booth as well. It’s lonely, in a deeper way. 

The sun is just beginning to come up, pink and purple licking away the darkness of night.

He barely looks up from the menu to order his lunch, and asks for more coffee. “Coming right up.” 

A chipper, and familiar voice sounds. Graves looks up so fast he gets a crick in his neck, and catches a glimpse of a name tag that reads _ ‘Corvus’ _ almost hidden beneath long dark hair in a braid draped over one shoulder. Graves’ jaw drops, and he pays extra close attention when his meal is brought back by the same waiter. It’s impossible. The same eyes, lips, and ethereal beauty, but this is no forest witch. 

It’s definitely a human. Graves can tell. He reaches out, slowly enough to be denied, and then takes Corvus’ wrist in his hand, thumbing over the scars on his palm, and then tracing the bluish veins on his arm. “You’re real, aren’t you?” Graves asks. 

The boy nods, and then glances around the diner, before ducking in close, “Is everything alright, sir?” 

Graves blinks. “I think so. Would you like to join me? Is that allowed?”

Corvus seems shocked, but nods, and then carefully takes off his apron, before settling into the booth across from Graves. “I’ll call it my first break today. Thank you. What’s your name?” 

He smiles, and tells the boy, getting a soft blush in reply, before he speaks, 

“Sounds like one of those families. They tell stories about you folks. Witch hunters for centuries.” 

Graves shakes his head. “Maybe they used to. But I’m retired. Starting today.” 

Corvus looks surprised. “Why is that?”

Graves just smiles, not ready to spill all his secrets. “It’s time.” 

After his lazy breakfast, Corvus ends his break and has to get back to work, but Graves gives him his office number, as well as the address of his current residence. He trusts that the universe won’t fuck this.

 

As it happens, _he’s_ the one who gets fucked.

 

There’s a knock on Graves’ door a little after nine in the evening, and he’s still quite awake, thanks to the coffee, and the entire damn encounter from the morning. 

He’s just got on his house shoes and plaid sleep pants, so when he answers the door shirtless and finds Corvus gaping at him, he has to think for a moment. 

“Ah. Sorry. Let me throw something on...” Graves trails off at the look in the younger man’s eyes.

Corvus shakes his head, and then crosses the threshold without need for an invitation, confirming Graves’ theory. He doesn’t need one because he’s human, or because he’s already  _ got _ one. “Don’t apologize.”   
  


So Graves doesn’t. 

He leads and lets Corvus into his room, and the next thing he knows, he’s being pinned down onto the bed. Things are progressing quickly enough, with kisses that land over his lips, his jaw, his neck, making him hard embarrassingly fast. 

Corvus says nothing, until he asks shyly if he can fuck Graves, and he almost shudders in relief. 

“Yes. God, please.”

Graves flutters a hand dimly towards the bedside drawer, and Corvus tugs off his pants, touches him with a shaky hand, then takes his cock into his mouth, and sucks him off while slicking up two fingers. 

Graves comes once from just the sheer stimulation, and again from Corvus’ fingers curving inside him. 

Each orgasm is like a shockwave, rippling out, but never vanishing completely. 

His cock splutters and spits ropes of white onto his stomach, smearing against the hair above his navel, as Corvus lowers himself to lick into Graves’ hole, and probably gets a mouthful of lube, as well as hair. 

He feels the boy’s fingers of his free hand pressing hard into Graves’ skin now, on his ass, while three spear  _ into _ him, and get him ready for Corvus, who is extremely gifted, as it happens. 

Graves watches with arousal and exhaustion heavy eyes as the boy lines up, and smoothly presses into him, filling him slowly like he’s never known, or imagined he could have. 

Their lips meet for around the tenth time as Corvus fucks into him, and Graves is grateful to have the comfort of his bed under his back, instead of the cold unforgiving ground. 

He’s not as young as he once was. 

“Grab the headboard,” Corvus mutters, then groans, as Graves moves to obey, and clenches around the cock buried inside him, entirely by accident. He holds tight, and Corvus fucks him hard enough to make him come again, just from quick continuous jabs against his prostate. 

Graves’ vision goes pure white, and he dimly is aware that Corvus is gagging him on his shirt, while kissing his forehead, and touching him over his very hypersensitive and spent cock. 

There’s a puddle of his semen smearing and sticky on his stomach, up to his chest, but Graves has never felt cleaner, more purified. Corvus finally comes, and goes stiff over top of Graves, warmth filling him to the brim, before he pulls back, and ducks down between his legs again. 

Graves whines and squirms at the feel of a tongue thrusting into him, and Corvus groans loudly, 

“You taste like heaven.” He says, and Graves can’t imagine how this is possible. 

By the time he comes  _ again _ , he’s on the verge of passing out, maybe dying, barely aware when Corvus licks over him, and cleans some of his release up like that. 

Graves groans once more, and feels Corvus leave the bed with a dip in the mattress, only to feel him then return, laden with a cool wash rag, and a glass of ice water. 

“Drink up.” Graves does, and then he finally sleeps. 

Hours pass. 

He wakes up with a long, lanky body tucked against his back, and arms curling around his waist. 

Lips press against his shoulder, and Graves is aware of being sore in places he hasn’t used for years. 

“You’re a good man, Percy Graves.” Corvus says, and he remembers everything with searing clarity.

The witch, the forest, carnal bliss. Those memories flash to the forefront of his mind. 

“You’re real though? Not about to leave me for the night?” Graves rasps, and Corvus smiles into his neck. 

“I’m very real. Created from the purest desire of your heart, by magic. I’m sorry I took so long to find you.” Graves sighs, and shakes his head, turning on the bed to pull Corvus into his arms properly, tucking him against his heart, which thuds a bit faster than normal. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” 

A soft hum, and Corvus nuzzles into him, their legs entangling under the sheets. 

Graves sleeps again.

No dreams haunt him. 

No visions of evil witches.

He’s been given a gift, a second chance, and he’s not about to waste it. 

* * *

 

**end**   
  


**Author's Note:**

> this ficlet is, in the loosest sense inspired by this: https://vacantbloodbones.tumblr.com/post/173938316630/


End file.
